Luther described the killing in great detail. I had no choice but to listen. He said he used the same knife he’d slit Ben’s throat with to gut poor Miles. Then the sick fuck said he cooked some of the dog meat and ate it. I almost threw up. What kind of demented piece of shit does something like that? I wanted to break free and just lay into the guy, but he’d tied the ropes that bound me really well.
After a while, he’d packed up enough of my stuff to make a trip to wherever it was he was taking it. Once he was gone, I was able to half roll, half squirm over to the pack where my hunting knife was. Thankfully, Luther was gone for a while so I had time to cut myself free, grab as much stuff as I could carry, and get the hell out of there before he returned. A large part of me wanted to wait for him to get back, but I only had my hunting knife, and he had a gun – several guns in fact when you add in the one he had stolen from me.
All that took place yesterday. I hiked as far as I could toward town, hauling all this stuff. I left my tent behind. I’m kicking myself now because the first couple houses I came to on the way to Woodcrest were burned. I was forced to spend the night sheltering and shivering outside. I did my best to build a tiny shelter from logs and twigs just to block the wind, but it didn’t help as much as I’d hoped.
I wonder if that acrid smell lately has been the burned homes that I passed. But it continues to linger in the air, so I’m not sure.
I still have a ways to go before I get to Woodcrest, so I suppose I should get moving. I’d say I have enough supplies with me to last another week. Asshole Luther took the rest. Thankfully, there were still a couple small secret caches I’d yet to recover, so I was able to grab those on the way out of the club. I’m not sure what I’ll do if I get to Woodcrest and I can’t find more supplies.
I’d say the only good thing about Miles not being with me – and I mean ONLY good thing – is that I can stretch my food and water supply farther. But that’s little consolation in the grand scheme of things.
Right now, I’m just thankful to be away from that crazy-ass Luther. Every step I put between me and the club makes me feel better. As much as I want to kill him for what he did to Miles, what purpose would that really serve? Plus, I’d probably just end up getting myself shot. At this point, however, maybe that’d be for the best. I’m trying to stay upbeat through this thing, but every day gets harder. It seems like I’m constantly questioning why I’m trying so hard to stay alive. I think it’s just the habit of living. And if that’s the case, maybe it’s time to re-evaluate my continued existence on this planet.
October 27th
8:29 a.m.
I have no way of knowing what the temperature is, but it’s cold – DAMN COLD!
I’d estimate that during the day, the highs lately have only been getting into the 40s at best. At night, I’d say the lows are somewhere in the 20s.
Yesterday, I was thankful to find a home right on the outskirts of town in which to bunk down for the night. It was the closest place to town that hadn’t been burnt to the ground.
I’m assuming that the torched houses must have been what that acrid smell was lingering in the air over the past few days. But I wonder why someone is burning these structures. I mean, what’s the point? I get the burning of bodies in town. Dead bodies all over the place can lead to disease, and wild animals coming in to scavenge, not to mention the smell. But I don’t get the burned house thing – very strange to me.
Anyway, at around two this morning, I awoke to noises coming from somewhere inside the house. At first, I figured it was just an animal seeking refuge from the cold. But after a few minutes, I noticed a light. I was instantly on guard, and I felt exposed without Dad’s gun – damn Luther! I sat listening quietly for a minute, but I didn’t hear anymore sounds of movement; therefore, I got up to check it out.
First, I checked the living room, entry foyer, and hallway since those are the area into which the home’s main door enters. Seeing nothing there but the continued glow of light coming from somewhere near the back of the home, I made my way to the kitchen. It was there that I could see the garage, its roof gloriously ablaze. And while the revelation was a relief to some extent, since it was the garage rather than the home itself that was on fire, it also concerned me because it meant that someone was around to have lit that fire. My mind instantly went to Luther, but I found it unlikely he would have followed me all this way out of the club. But when you’re as crazy as he is, I wouldn’t put it by him. I didn’t have long to ponder the identity of the culprit responsible, though, since it was at that moment I realized flames were coming from the side of the house near the kitchen window through which I was looking.
Guided solely by the light of the fire outside, since goddamn Luther took all my flashlights, I made my way to the kitchen sink. In the cabinets beneath the sink, I found a fire extinguisher (obviously not something Woodcrest scavengers found valuable enough to take). But by the time I got outside, the flames had spread up the side of the house. And the tiny extinguisher did little to combat their expanding reach toward the roofline.
Therefore, I ended my brief fight against the fire and hurried back inside to grab my few remaining supplies. The last thing I need is to lose those. I then had to quickly abandon my position within the home and watch the fire from outside.
While the blaze ruined my night’s sleep, the positive side of it all was that I had one hell of a fire to keep me warm until morning.
I wish Miles had been here to share the experience. I’ve never seen a house burn completely to the ground like that. It was an interesting process, one that I won’t likely forget. The whole thing was actually kind of cool. Maybe that’s what’s going on. Maybe there’s a pyromaniac roaming around just torching houses for the fun of it. I mean, I couldn’t blame him in a way. Why not? It’s not like anyone is going to stop him or arrest him. And if you’re into that sort of thing, you’ve pretty much just been handed the world as your canvas.
But now the house fire has dwindled to a giant pile of smoldering ruins. It’s sad in a way. First the humans die off. Now the remaining reminders of their presence on this earth are beginning to follow them. Not much in the way of a pick-me-up on my return to town.
I wonder how other towns look right about now. I suppose that most of them are looking pretty piss-poor. I’d like to see what downtown Chicago looks like. I wouldn’t want to BE there, but it’d be cool just to see some shots of well known spots around the city and see how they’ve handled the brunt of the apocalypse.
I wonder if there are still people living downtown. And if so, what kind of people are they? Are they like Luther? Or are they like me? I suppose chances are they’re more like Luther than me. The way things are going right now, I probably won’t ever get my answer.
Guess it’s time to see what I can see in Woodcrest. It’s light enough out to get moving. My joints feel all locked up from sitting here in the cold for so long.
I’m not looking forward to this, but I need to do it. Hopefully I’m not met by a gun-toting dude like last time. It’s time for a light breakfast of nuts and the last of my dried fruit. Then I’ll be on my way.
3:37 p.m.
Well that certainly didn’t go the way I’d hoped. But what’s new? I hadn’t been in town more than ten minutes at most before I was sent packing.
It seems that a small band of survivors have taken over what’s left of downtown Woodcrest (not that there was much to start with). They’re controlling it as their own.
I had just located a newspaper box with the main headline of the paper inside reading, “Gas Station Robbery Claims Six Lives” when I was confronted by four men. They told me that I wasn’t welcome and that I needed to go back to wherever I came from.
I pled my case, explaining my situation, but it didn’t matter. They said I needed to go or they’d force me to go. Then I asked them if they knew of any places I should go and why all the houses outside of town were being torched. They said that they didn’t know what th
e situations of surrounding communities were, but that they are burning all the excess abandoned houses around Woodcrest so that outsiders don’t settle in them. I guess that makes sense. They probably don’t want people like Luther setting up shop in these houses and causing problems. I can’t say I blame them in a way. It certainly doesn’t help my cause, though.
Finally, as one last request, I asked them if they knew anything about the gas station shooting that was referenced in the newspaper. They said that they didn’t, and then they made it abundantly clear that I needed to be on my way.
Seeing the headline on that newspaper was a terrible revelation and one that I feel responsible for. Just thinking that I could be the reason for the death of six innocent people makes me feel like throwing up. How am I ever going to live with that sort of guilt?
Added to that, now I’m really stuck between a rock and a hard place. If I try to stay in Woodcrest, I’ll be shot or somehow otherwise run off. There are no houses around in which to bed down even for a little while. I don’t have a vehicle, and the nearest town is a good 15 miles away at least. And it could have the same problems as Woodcrest even if I wanted to walk there. I could try heading back to the club, but there’s not much waiting for me there. Maybe Jesse and Madeline will help me out. They seemed like halfway decent individuals once I got to know them. I think they might be my only hope at this point.
October 28th
8:18 a.m.
Sorry I couldn’t write more yesterday, but once it gets dark, I no longer have a way to see well enough to write. If it weren’t for the moon, I probably wouldn’t be able to see anything at all at night.
So anyway, once I was booted from Woodcrest yesterday, I spent the remaining portion of the day trying to decide what to do while at the same time looking for some sort of viable shelter in which to settle down for the night. I finally found a half-burned one-car garage set back from an already-torched home about halfway between town and the club. The garage is built from cinderblocks, so I guess the fire didn’t take too well. Mostly the roof burned, which kind of sucks big time for my particular situation.
As I settled in last night, it began to rain. I therefore had to hunker down in one corner of the garage where the roof is still partially intact. Even then, the rain runoff dripped on me throughout the night, at least until it got cold enough for the rain to freeze. I woke this morning covered in a light dusting of snow. I’ve never been this cold. I shiver non-stop.
The outside world is currently blanketed in white. It’s still snowing, and it appears in no hurry to let up anytime soon. I’d estimate that at least a couple inches of snow have fallen throughout the night. But I’ll take the snow over that icy rain any day.
I was able to accumulate a little rain runoff last night since my supply of drinking water is running perilously low. But it, along with my little remaining supply of water froze solid last night. I spent the time from when it got light out enough to see, until now, finding dry firewood (not an easy task considering the situation), and clearing a space on the garage’s concrete-slab floor for a small fire.
Unfortunately, since it rained so much last night, most of my firewood had to come from the few dry portions of the garage’s remaining rafters and ceiling. It’s either stay dry with a partial roof or stay warm with a partial fire. Plus, I need the fire to melt my drinking water. This means that unless it stops snowing, my shelter here probably won’t make for much more than a wind breaker, which I’ll admit is better than nothing, but not much with as cold as it is.
I was kind of hoping that it would warm up again before winter. It happens that way quite often here around Chicago. You’ll get a frigid blast of winter, and then a taste of fall again before the real winter sets in. But I’m beginning to wonder if fall is long gone and this is going to be it. No way of knowing without the weather forecasts of yore.
Food is also running very low. In a couple more days, I’ll be out completely even if I cut down my already heavily rationed meals. I’d say I’m down to a couple hundred calories per meal at best. I’ve probably lost a good 10 to 15 pounds over the past few weeks. I’ll bet I’ve dropped 20 to 30 since arriving to the club. I don’t feel like I can go on like this much longer. I always feel tired and extremely weak.
Okay, I’m not going to write anymore for now because the snow keeps landing on my pages and melting, which makes it difficult to write. The pencil doesn’t work well on damp paper and I keep poking holes through the pages.
Write more later…hopefully.
October 29th
9:03 a.m.
I think that this is as miserable as I’ve been in my entire life. Even times when I had food poisoning or a debilitating flu were better than this because I knew that those bouts of vomiting or diarrhea would pass in a day or two. This is worse because I no longer have hope, and without hope, what is there to live for?
But I have a plan.
It has finally stopped snowing, and the air is calm. I spent last night just trying to maintain my pitiful fire here in the burnt out garage. But between the snowfall and a driving wind that kicked up during the night, it was a futile effort.
At least it gave me something to do to pass the time. I think it was right around two in the morning that I finally gave up and just let the fire die. I felt it symbolic of my situation to say the least.
After the fire went out, it was a pretty miserable wait until morning. I’ve donned just about every article of clothing I brought with me. Even then, the wind really cut me to the bone. But now I’m ready to go.
10:05 a.m.
I was all set to go when it started raining again. Now I’m just waiting for the precipitation to stop. The only good thing is that with the rain, the snow has started to melt, but I’d say that’s little consolation all things considered.
I’m so tired of sitting in my little corner of the garage. The concrete slab is really killing my butt and back. I hauled my deflated air mattress along with me, but I don’t think it’s worth getting out. There’s not enough roof over the garage. With the mattress all laid out, half of it at least would be exposed to the elements due to the partially burned off roof. I’d say I probably have a 5-foot by 5-foot section of roof remaining to shelter beneath. And with the air mattress like a big raft, it would only act to channel the rain toward me and pool in the indentation formed by my body.
I should probably just force myself to leave, but it’s raining so hard and I’m already so tired, I can’t seem to get motivated. I guess it shouldn’t matter what the weather conditions are with what I have in mind. Arriving haggard and rain-soaked might actually help. But I’m afraid that with as cold as the rain is, paired with my currently exhausted physical condition, I might succumb to the weather before I’m able to carry through with my plan.
Speaking of which, I guess it’s time to let you in on that. I suppose it’s not really much of a plan. I’m going to head back to the club and beg to be taken in by Jesse and Madeline. Groveling for help isn’t really my style, but it’s the best I can come up with. I can pull my weight around the maintenance shed. I just need somewhere dry and relatively safe to hold out against the elements.
So that’s it. That’s the big plan. Like I said, not much of one, but better than nothing I guess.
2:17 p.m.
RAIN, RAIN, RAIN. Just waiting for the rain to stop. This SUCKS!!!!!
3:58 p.m.
Still raining. It’s not coming down as hard as it was before, but it’s coming down nonetheless. Guess that means another night in this hell-hole of a garage.
I’m resolute however. Tomorrow I’m going – rain or shine. I can’t spent another day OR night in this place. I’m through almost all my food and it’s do-or-die time.
I might not write again for a while. I want to have everything packed up and ready to go so that first thing tomorrow morning, as soon as it’s light, I can finish my trek back to the club.
I wonder how Jesse and Madeline will receive me. Hopefull
y they’ll be willing to let me stay for a little while, at least until I get my feet back under me. If they do, I’ll use my time there to scout out new living locations. If they’re burning all the homes closer to town, that means they may have left the ones heading the other direction from the club (not that there were many to begin with) intact.
October 30th
12:39 p.m.
The rain has finally stopped, and all the snow has melted. Currently, I’m sitting on a fallen tree obscured by the forest beside the club’s entrance. This keeps me out of sight of the main road, although I haven’t seen a vehicle pass since I began my journey into town days ago.
I’m having a very light lunch of one half of my last can of baked beans (exciting, I know), and then it’s on to the maintenance shed. Writing while I eat makes me chew slower. I can take a bite, write a sentence or two, pause, and then take another bite. It slows me down. Otherwise I’d consume this entire can in under a minute I’m so hungry.
The closer I get to Jesse and Madeline, the more hopeful I become. I remember just how kind they were to me when I was hurt. I can only pray that they extend such courtesies again.
I feel exhausted – drained both physically and mentally. I’m hungry all the time and I miss Miles so bad. He was my best friend, my constant companion. I know that might sound stupid to some people. I guess only someone who has had a dog since it was a puppy can truly understand the bond that can be formed between canine and master. I hope he’s found a better place, chasing squirrels and eating to his heart’s content behind those pearly gates of doggie heaven.
3:03 p.m.
The Dystopian Diaries Page 12
